


Heartaches and Happy Endings

by ackles_ass_equation



Series: Let Me Love You [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester in Love, Dean is sad, I hope this makes yall sad, M/M, Sam is sad, and sadness, enjoy, it's got a happy ending though, litertally just angst, love you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 22:07:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackles_ass_equation/pseuds/ackles_ass_equation
Summary: One fight was all it took for Dean to stop loving Sam (that's what Sam thinks).





	Heartaches and Happy Endings

Sam hadn't meant it, didn't even know why he said it. The words just slipped from his mouth before he really even realized what he said. 

"Daddy's perfect little soldier."

They'd been spat with anger. But as soon as the words were made vocal, Sam knew there was no taking them back. 

Sam stepped Dean hesitantly, eyes wide with shock. Dean instantly flinched back. Sam opened his mouth to apologize, reached his arms out towards his brother. No words came. No touch came. Sam began furiously shaking his head. 

"No," "I'm sorry," and "Dean," were repeated in no order hurriedly. 

Dean's face was unreadable.

He turned, peeled off his shoes and jeans, got into one of the queen beds, and turned off the bedside lamp, extinguishing any light into the room beside the fluorescent sign "No Vacancies" outside their room. Sam stood rigid, dumbstruck by the sudden turn of events. Sam had at least expected Dean to tell him to go fuck himself. 

It took Sam a few minutes to gather his bearings and walk to the edge of the bed Dean was in.

"Dean-"

"Sleep in the other bed," Dean hissed. 

The next day, Dean only spoke to Sam once, telling him he was going to interview a witness. That night, Dean waited for Sam to get into bed, and then climbed into the opposite bed. 

Sam suppressed the urge to apologize and cry at the same time. Instead, he managed to turn over and curl into himself. It was an agonizing half hour before Dean turned out the lights and Sam finally let the tears spill over. Sam didn't sleep at all that night. 

The day after was the exact same. Dean said two sentences to Sam this time, which Sam counted as progress. However, every time Sam tried to say that he was sorry, Dean would shut him down and walk away. They completed the hunt in silence that night. 

Sam didn't try on day four. He didn't have to. Dean spent the whole day sprawled across his bed either asleep or pretending to be asleep. Sam went for a late-night jog and when he came back, Dean was nowhere in sight. Sam crashed on the bed Dean had been sleeping in and passed out. Dean didn't come back until noon the next day, stumbling in the door and reeking of cheap whiskey. Sam sat at the small kitchenette table, heart shattering as Dean slammed into the bathroom door, taking it a few tries to open it up. Sam could hear a string of slurred curses until the sound of the shower finally hit his ears. 

Sam left to get the greasiest burger he could find for Dean as well as a salad for himself. When he got back to the hotel, Dean was manspreading on the couch, watching an old football game. Sam took the burger out of the bag and handed it to Dean. He didn't look up as he took it from Sam, but did mumble something that Sam interrupted as some thanks. 

Sam fell asleep on the kitchen table around midnight, laptop open to the details of their next hunt. Dean got up and walked over to his brother. Dean brushed his hand through Sam's hair lightly. Sam subconsciously leaned into the tender touch. Dean leaned down and pressed his lips to Sam's temple.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered. 

Dean stood up, kicked Sam's chair, making it look like an accident not that he was making sure Sam wouldn't sleep in a chair and made his way to his bed. Sam jerked awake, looking around the dim room confusedly. Once he realized that he wasn't in any danger, Sam relaxed and stretched. He turned around to see Dean laying down and still awake. 

"One of Dad's old friends has a case for us a few towns over. We should pack up the day after tomorrow for it," Sam tried.

Dean nodded and began to drift off to sleep. Sam sighed and went over to the other bed, knowing better than to even think about sleeping in the same bed as Dean. He turned out the lights and stared at the ceiling until his eyes burned and had to eventually cave into the sweet temptation of unconsciousness. 

Sam was thankful Dean spent most of the next day at some wrestling convention nearby. It gave him plenty of time to come up with a plan, gather what he needed for said plan, and put it into action. 

The hardest part was trying to find the panties in his size without drawing attention to himself. Everything else was easy and straightforward. 

Dean had come back a little earlier than Sam had anticipated, but he had luckily already done everything he needed to. When Dean strolled into the motel room, his jaw dropped at the sight.

Sam's legs were spread and tied to the end of the bed. His arms were stretched above him and handcuffed to the headboard. And the cherry on top was the bright yellow lacey boy shorts that hid nothing. 

Dean took in the image.

For about all of three seconds. 

Then he left, closing the door tightly behind him. 

Sam waited for an hour until Dean returned, two twelve packs in his hands. Dean set the boxes on the floor when he saw Sam still in bed, tears streaming down his face. 

"I dropped the key," Sam murmured, infuriated. 

Dean quickly found it and unlocked the cuffs from Sam's obviously irritated wrists. He moved to the end of the bed to untie the ropes from Sam's ankles. Sam smacked his hands away and all but pushed his older brother the lumpy mattress.

Sam sat up so fast, he could feel every bone in his body protest. He ignored it and stormed into the bathroom, immediately beginning to choke back sobs as soon as the door is shut. 

Dean could very clearly hear Sam through the thin door and thinner walls. He downed three beers in record time to keep his mind off it. He's on his eleventh beer when Sam finally emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, face red and tear streaked. He climbed into bed and brought the covers over his head. He was far past asleep when Dean managed to fall into his own bed. Both their hearts ached more than they would ever admit to even themselves let alone each other. 

In the morning, it was like nothing had happened at all. Not even the fight. All the beer was gone. Dean was freshly showered. 

"Rise and shine, Sammy," Dean chippered loudly, jostling Sam awake. "We got a hunt to get to."

Sam didn't speak the whole day, afraid of breaking whatever illusion this was. Dean drummed along to the radio, made fun of Sam's hair, eat something that looked like it should be given to pigs instead of people. All the usual Dean stuff. 

But Sam knew it had to all be fake when they got their motel room. Dean asked for two beds. Of course, Dean would usually ask two beds, the first for stitching wounds and getting bloody, the other for everything else. But after a fight, Dean would always ask for one bed. Sometimes he would even ask to switch rooms to one that only had a single bed if he knew they wouldn't leaving town within the next two or three days. It was a way for them to come back to each other, to show that one hadn't lost the other over the heat of the moment insults. It ensured that they would have to sleep together, that they weren't allowed to pull away. It worked every time. Sam hated fighting. But he always looked forward to that single bed after one. 

They finished the hunt within four days and without a hitch. They slept in separate beds. They didn't kiss. They didn't hug. There was no hand holding in the Impala. There was no arm slung around the other's shoulder. There weren't any suggestive winks or comments. 

Dean continued his charade. Sam continued breaking. 

For as long as they’ve been in the bunker, they’ve _always_ had “Home Sweet Home” sex. Sam knew he had hoped for too much when they got home from their third consecutive hunt. 

Dean dropped his bag on the ground as soon as he got to the bottom of the stairs. 

"Well, I'm gonna turn in. Night, Sam."

 _“No. Not this too. Please just give me a sliver of this.”_ Sam begged silently.

Dean walked off to his room, not once looking back. After a few minutes, Sam went into Dean's room. Dean was laid out on his stomach, arm stretched out over the edge of the bed. Sam lightly grabbed onto Dean's wrist, and gave it a gentle shake.

"De," Sam asked in a hushed tone.

"Go to bed, Sam," Dean mumbled into his pillow. 

"I'm trying," Sam replied, his voice cracking. 

"No, if you were trying, you would be in your own room, in your bed, with your eyes closed instead of in here trying to wake me up for whatever reason." Dean didn't sound particularly angry, but he definitely didn't sound pleased. 

"I'm sorry I bothered you," Sam whispered as his heart shattered into a thousand pieces once again. 

Sam suppressed his tears, pulled himself away and went down to the shooting range. He knew Dean probably wouldn't be able to hear anything from his room, but even if he could, Sam didn't care. He picked up his gun, put a full mag in it, put on the earmuffs, and fired away. 

He shot four mags total. It wasn't until after the last bullet that Sam realized there wasn't even a target up. Sam headed back upstairs where he found Dean sitting patiently at the table in the war room. Sam passed him to go into the kitchen. He picked a full bottle of Jack Daniels and walked back to the war room. Sam can tell just by the look on Dean’s face that he must look like shit to his brother. He sat across from Dean, swung his feet heavily onto the table, opened the bottle and took a swig. 

"Why are you up, Dean," Sam asked bitterly.

"I could hear you down in the shooting range. Woke me up. You okay, Sam," Dean had genuine concern in his voice. 

"' _Are you okay, Sam?'"_ Sam mocked loudly. "Are you fucking kidding me? I've been crying for weeks. I haven't slept. I haven't eaten. I haven't laughed or smiled or joked. But as soon as I knock back a few bullets,  _now you ask if I'm okay?_ I'm fucking sorry for what I said to about being Dad's soldier. I didn't mean it. I've been telling you that for three fucking weeks." Sam slammed the bottle down in anger, alcohol sloshing over the top. He stood up and began to storm off. 

"Sam," Dean yelled. 

"Why don't you love me anymore," Sam whispered, all the energy drained out of him. "Is it because of what I said? Or did you finally realize how fucked up I am? Did you realize that I actually am a freak? Or did you convince yourself that the only way to keep me was to give me what I wanted when we started this and you decided you just couldn't do it anymore?"

Dean didn't speak for an agonizingly long amount of time. Couldn’t make eye contact. Sam is about to walk away once more when Dean speaks up.

"I cheated on you, Sam," he admitted. Sam turned around, confusion and hurt painfully obvious in his eyes as tears streamed down his face. "That night I didn't come home. I went to a bar because I was still a little mad at you. But I was going to go back to the hotel after a beer. I wanted to let you know that I forgave you and that I was sorry I had been a dick to you. All I wanted to do was kiss you, Sam. But one beer became three and then eight and god knows how many shots of god know what. There was this guy in the corner who kind of looked like you, same build and all. We made it back to his place." Sam went to turn away. "Sam, please. I know you don't want to hear this, but I have to tell you. We made it back to his place and he shoved me against the wall like you do. I couldn't even form an excuse, I just pulled away from him and ran out of his apartment. I sat outside our motel door for hours. It took me ten hours to gather up the courage to even up the door."

"Did you kiss him,” Sam managed to grit out after a few moments.

"No."

"I think you should call one of the hotels in town and book a room for the night." 

Dean nodded, knowing Sam was right, and pulled out his phone to look up one of the numbers. 

Sam walked behind Dean's chair and planted a gentle on Dean's temple. 

"I'll go pack some clean clothes for us. We'll leave in ten, okay?"

Sam is already walking away when Dean speaks.

"You're coming?"

"Of course. You have some trust to restore. And I could really use some confirmation that you love me."  

"I love you, Sam," Dean called out.

"Make you sure only get one bed," Sam called back already halfway to Dean's bedroom.

 


End file.
